The First Covenant (Dark Universe Series Book 2)

by Alex Sheppard

  Approve of that self-serving, greedy spawn of the Arlingtons? Hell no!

  “He seemed concerned when he heard you got in trouble at Nebeca,” the captain continued, all the while studying her face.

  Ramya held her breath. He knew? Had he come looking for her . . . to help her escape Melroon and his Confederate Troopers?

  “Anyway, that’s beside the point.” The captain switched off the holo image and leaned forward to look into Ramya’s eyes. “So, I wanted you to know that you might come across your father at Posci and there’s a chance your flight will end.”

  Ramya shrugged. “Well, guess we’ll see when we get there.”

  The captain rubbed his chin as his eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem very afraid of your father anymore.”

  Ramya shifted in her seat. “I won’t lie, Captain. I am. I’m terrified of facing him. But I’m trying not to be. And I’m getting better at that.”

  Captain Milos raised a curious eyebrow. “So you’re simply going to tell Trysten to go to hell as far as your future is concerned?”

  That was the plan. Not in those exact words, but close. “I think so. I’ve thought about it a lot. I don’t need to be so afraid. I’m a quasi-adult, I can choose what I want to do, right? I mean, really, what has he got on me? The lure of money? What if I don’t want it? What if I’m perfectly happy here?”

  “Are you?”

  Ramya nodded without a second thought. “Absolutely.”

  “Good for you,” the captain said. There was no derision in his voice, and Ramya was happy for that. “But, Rami, that’s not the kind of money you pass over completely without thinking.”

  Ramya sat up. What was Captain Milos trying to do? One second he was pleased at her happiness and the next he was making her rethink her choices.

  “Why not?”

  “Life on a freighter is a hard life, Rami. You know that now. When you leave a life much more comfortable, you have to be absolutely certain you won’t regret the decision.”

  “Do you regret yours?”

  For a second his face stayed frozen, then a bemused expression softened it and made it crinkly. “You have the Kiroff snap, no doubt about that,” he said, chuckling. “You remind me of Abelei so much. And no, I don’t. But I’ve seen plenty who do. So, dear girl, think it through. Trysten isn’t going anywhere. There’s no rush.”

  There was a rush. The moment her father set his eyes on her, he’d try to browbeat her into submission like he’d always done. She’d have to fight back, hold strong. How would she do it if she didn’t refuse the power he wielded?

  “May I leave now?” she asked, eager to have a few moments to herself.

  Captain Milos nodded. “You may.”

  She had reached the door when he called her back. “Remember this, Rami. Everyone in the universe has needs, wants, hopes, and dreams, but powerful people hardly ever show their need to anyone. That’s how they hang on to their power.”

  Ramya’s mind stumbled to a halt. Who was he talking about? She would’ve asked for an explanation, but the captain waved a curt dismissal. “Go now. Get something out of Dakrhaeth if you can. He just might hold the key to our survival.”

  The captain’s words stayed with Ramya even after she had returned to her room, picked up her notepad, and set off to interrogate Dakrhaeth.

  17

  RAMYA MARCHED into the cargo hold the next day to find Fenny back at the Pterostrich cage. Even though her task was interrogating Dakrhaeth, Ramya insisted on staying with Fenny. But Fenny refused steadfastly, her pitch rising when the Mwandan engineers sauntered in to work on the large screen-like object they’d been constructing.

  “You worry for no reason, Rami,” Fenny said, shaking her head, making her displeasure clear. She cast a proud look at the chick before continuing. “Vittoria is extremely well behaved. Besides, our Mwandan friends are right next to me. They can help in case anything happens. Now go, just go!”

  Fenny almost shooed Ramya away. The Stryker was at the far end of the hold and it took what seemed like forever to reach. Not that the distance had changed but Ramya was distracted and worried. She dragged herself into the Stryker, and her mind was swirling around the upcoming meeting with her father. Trysten Kiroff was dangerous as an adversary and Ramya was not sure her father had friendship on his agenda.

  The captain seemed to trust Gael, but he was the other thing Ramya was worried about. He was Trysten Kiroff’s minion after all. And she had seen such people all her life—all eager to please and none with a shred of honor. How could Gael be different? What stopped Gael into luring the captain into a trap?

  She wished she could speak to Captain Milos about her concerns, but the captain was busy. Besides, he had said he trusted Gael. Ramya couldn’t ask again and insult his judgment. So instead she lumbered on, trying to keep her mind on the tasks assigned to her. At the moment, it was speaking to Dakrhaeth again.

  “Hello, Dakrhaeth,” she greeted as she settled down in one corner of the Stryker’s entryway.

  The ball atop the column that was the only physical manifestation of Dakrhaeth bobbed up and down. “Good to see you, Mihaal. You seem unhappy. Someone snipe your Pax?”

  Dakrhaeth was observant, no doubt. He had even found out about her liking for Sosa’s Pax. Sometimes though, his intense perception and subsequent probing comments were annoying. As it was for Ramya at the moment. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the needling.

  “No. No one sniped anything,” Ramya replied.

  “What is it then?” Dakrhaeth asked. “Is the commander feeling too grouchy?”

  What did the commander being grouchy have anything to do with her? Anyway, she hadn’t seen Ross since leaving Nebeca. He, along with the captain and Lefrasi, the leader of the twenty-one Mwandans aboard, was in closed-door discussions in the captain’s chamber. No one was allowed in, and no one knew what was brewing in there.

  “No one’s grouchy,” Ramya said irritably. “Forget about all that. Let’s get some work done, all right?”

  “I am always ready, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth replied. “And I have some—”

  A wild cheer erupted outside, interrupting Dakrhaeth. Curious, Ramya leaned out of the Stryker’s hatch and listened. It was indeed a cheer, but the language was not one she understood. The Mwandans! It had to be them. But what were they cheering?

  “The Mwandans sure sound excited,” Dakrhaeth commented. “They must’ve found something to rejoice. You should join them. It’ll make you feel better.”

  Ramya stifled a sigh. With all the worries swimming in her mind, Ramya was not in the mood for enjoying Dakrhaeth’s all-knowing commentary. Anyway, she had to go check out the reason behind the continuing cheers, and that was a timely and valid excuse to get away from the Stryker. Grabbing her gear hastily, Ramya jumped off the fighter.

  “Shut down, Dakrhaeth,” she instructed. Dakrhaeth had the habit of staying in a light Sleep Mode, a state which let him pick up activity—conversations even—on the Endeavor. Ramya didn’t quite appreciate the behavior so she repeated the instruction. “Did you hear? Shut down. I’ll be back later.”

  “Shut down? But I cannot do that. I’m working on the faded star scenario.”

  Ramya turned around. “Faded star? What’s that?”

  “That’s when we started on our mission to your world, Mihaal,” Dakrhaeth informed. “Our leaders would always remind us of the faded star. I remember that.”

  That was hopeful. The faded star could be a marker of sorts.

  “I can’t remember anything more unfortunately,” Dakrhaeth said, crushing Ramya’s little hope for some answers.

  “It’s something at least,” Ramya said, forcing cheer into her voice.

  “I agree. I’m scanning the constellations in the area around Anomaly Point. Perhaps I’ll find something.”

  “All right. Finish your work. Then you shut down. No eavesdropping on everyone. That’s an order,” Ramya yelled, then she strode toward the entrance of the ho
ld.

  Almost all the Mwandans were assembled in front of the semicircular screen-like structure they had been erecting in the past days. Their eyes glittered like gems as they smiled and talked incessantly in a Mwandan tongue. On the other side of the chattering cluster of Mwandans, Fenny stood with arms on her hips, scowling and muttering. Ramya walked over.

  Fenny scrunched her nose as soon as Ramya was within earshot. “The grays are driving me nuts,” she said with a vehement shake of her head. Ramya winced at the dismissive way Fenny spoke of the Mwandans. Until now, she had not thought much of it. At the moment though, seeing Fenny snarl at the Mwandans made her insides twitch with unease. This wasn’t right. The Mwandans didn’t deserve such disdain. Besides, they were on a mission together, so, like it or not, they had to give each other some respect.

  “Why do you hate them so much?” Ramya asked.

  Fenny’s eyes turned into perfect circles. “Hate them?” she balked. “I don’t hate them. I’m just”—Fenny’s voice dropped a couple of notches—“I’m just weirded out by them. And I don’t trust them much either. That’s all.”

  “Weirded out? How so?”

  Fenny closed her eyes and sighed. “Have you seen what they’ve done to the upper deck? It’s full of these funny plants now. And the grays take turns soaking in starlight. It’s never ever empty.”

  The Mwandans needed to soak up starlight because of their genetic makeup, much like the plants they were descended from that needed to photosynthesize to make food. Mwandan also ate food, but they had to “charge up from time to time,” as Ahool explained. The upper deck, with its domed glass top, was the best place to find starlight on the Endeavor. Ramya still couldn’t understand why Fenny was mad about that.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Fenny shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like they’re doing this weird ritual I don’t understand. And . . . it makes me uneasy.”

  “They might think we’re weird, Fenny,” Ramya said with a chuckle.

  Fenny stared at her for a second before tilting her chin stubbornly at Ramya. “What’s wrong with me? I’m perfectly normal.”

  “You’re raising a Pterostrich chick as a pet, Fenny,” Ramya said. “You’re not normal. You’re nowhere near normal.”

  A deep flush flooded Fenny’s face and she busily studied her nails for a while. “Well, I guess you have a point,” she said finally. “In a way I’m weird too.” She cast a sidelong look at the Mwandans who were still talking among themselves, seemingly oblivious of Ramya and Fenny’s presence. “But admit it, Rami, they’re weirder than I am.”

  Ramya chuckled. A lighthearted Fenny was what she needed. She was about to ask Fenny about Vi when the door of the hold screeched open.

  Captain Milos marched in, flanked by Ross and Lefrasi. Behind them were two people Ramya didn’t recognize right away. Then she recalled—they were the man and the woman Fenny had found to help at Nebeca.

  “Those two are with us?” Ramya leaned toward Fenny and whispered.

  “Who?” Fenny asked. Then she followed Ramya’s gaze. “Oh, Bo and Lolo? Yes, they were looking for a ride to the Fringe so . . .”

  So the captain offered them a ride. Given they saved Fenny and Ramya’s life, a free trip wasn’t asking too much. But something about them was odd. Their eyes never settled on anything or anyone but continuously shifted and slipped and slithered from one thing to another. Their faces were rigid as if they were ready to walk into a war, and their mouths drawn into thin lines.

  “Don’t stare at them, Rami,” Fenny cautioned. “They’re mercenaries. They don’t like it when people stare.”

  Ramya tore her gaze off the woman’s thickly muscled biceps.

  “You got mercenaries into the Endeavor?” Ramya blurted. “You didn’t find them weird?”

  Fenny shrugged. “What could I do? I had to get you back, kid.”

  While Ramya appreciated the thought, she couldn’t shake off the niggling bit in her head. The wary way Bo and Lolo looked around, as if evaluating how much everything in the Endeavor was worth, made her worry. Perhaps she was overreacting just the way Fenny had to the Mwandans.

  Fenny nudged her elbow. “Come on. Let’s see what the grays are so excited about.”

  The Mwandans, all except Merin, the engineer, had stepped away from the giant screen. Merin stood facing the screen, her eyes closed.

  “What is she doing?” Fenny muttered.

  “Praying,” Ramya offered. But to whom? There were no forest spirits around.

  “Come on.” Fenny grabbed Ramya’s arm and scooted over to Ross. “Hey, Commander,” she whispered.

  Ross frowned even before he turned to look at them. Grouchy . . . just like Dakrhaeth had said. Ramya slid back a bit, just enough for some cover behind Fenny. She had had enough confrontations with Ross already, and this one she could do without.

  “What’s the circus about?” Fenny asked.

  “This isn’t a circus,” Ross snapped. “Merin’s an Uminato. She’s trying to set up a communication channel to Chief Dal and Chief Mifek. The Berkari can’t use official Confederacy channels so they have to invent these mind-projection decks. It seems they got through briefly to Chief Dal.”

  An Uminato. On Morris II, Ross had used that word to describe Chief Dal. In the rush of events, Ramya had forgotten to ask him what it meant. She didn’t want to have a conversation with grouchy Ross and had hoped Fenny would ask what an Uminato was. But Fenny decided to stare open-mouthed at Merin and the projection deck, oblivious of anyone else’s presence.

  “What’s an Uminato?” Ramya asked.

  Ross didn’t frown. Or snap. Or reply in a miffed voice. “All Mwandans have strong extra-sensory powers. An Uminatos are stronger than most.”

  “You mean they can read minds and stuff?”

  Ross walked over to her side. “No, they can’t read minds, but they can sense emotions.”

  “Ah, yes. I remember now. Chief Dal said that when he was asking us about what brought us to Morris II.”

  Ross flashed a smile. “You could call them empaths. If you lie to them, they’ll pick it up right away.”

  “So . . . an Uminato is colored different?”

  “Yes. Remember Chief Dal?”

  Ramya nodded. She remembered vividly. Instead of the deathly gray of most other Mwandan, he was the exact shade of brown as Merin, only the stripes were a bit different.

  “I guess you’d need an Uminato’s mind power to set up an interstellar communication channel,” she added.

  “You guessed right,” Ross replied. His lighthearted tone was unexpected and strangely charming.

  “That’s pretty powerful,” she said, ignoring the peculiar blips in her stomach.

  “I’ve read that Mwandans know psychokinesis. Back in ancient times, long before the galaxy was settled, they had wars. All fought with mind power. Later, they gave it all up and went into seclusion.”

  “Why?” Ramya asked.

  Ross shrugged. “No idea. There’s very little information on Mwandans out there.”

  “You still know an awful lot about them. Where did you manage to find out so much?”

  Ross gave out a small sigh and Ramya sensed a pall of sadness fall on him. But it lifted almost instantly. “I used to be a bookworm. Loved studying history. Used to scour the nets digging up information on ancient lore. Wrote fat volumes of theses.” He paused for a second and looked up at the rafters. “Useless enterprise, if you ask me.”

  It was far from useless. Ross had dreamed of going to the university and then Trysten Kiroff’s greed had snatched that dream away.

  “No, it’s not,” Ramya blurted, immediately regretting saying it aloud. Ross gave her a sidelong glance before turning away to stare fixedly at Merin and the screen, his jaw hardening. “I’m sorry,” Ramya hastened to apologize. “I have no right to comment on—”

  “It’s all right,” Ross cut her off. “I appreciate your thought. I really do.” He turned to h
old her gaze. “I might have said otherwise earlier, but what happened on Halperion is not your fault.”

  It was kind of him to say that, but Ramya couldn’t stop feeling responsible for what happened to Ross and all the people on Halperion. If there was a way to fix it, she would.

  A flicker on the screen brought an abrupt end to her thoughts. As a grainy image of Chief Dal formed on it, the hold erupted into cheer. Seconds later, Chief Dal enthusiastically spoke about the advance they had made in the past days—reaching out to their government and setting up an assembly to discuss the Locustan threat.

  Even though Ramya listened to the chief’s updates, her mind lingered on the conversation with Ross that was left dangling. And oddly, Ramya kept on wishing she could talk some more with Ross. But she didn’t get a chance. The captain asked everyone except Ross and Lefrasi to leave the hold, obviously to discuss strategic matters with Chief Dal. Ramya hung around the COM for a while with Wiz and Fenny before retiring to her room to pore over her notes.

  18

  AN AWFUL, gut-clenching, bone-rattling tremor awoke Ramya in the middle of the night. For a moment or two, Ramya couldn’t recall when she had dozed off, still in her regular clothes and her notes strewn over the cot. The ship groaned and shook again. Ramya sat up with a start and then scrambled for the M-gun—she’d bought it on Nikoor before getting aboard the Endeavor—she always kept under her lumpy mattress. Her fingers curled around the sleek grip of the weapon long before her eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room. The panic in her brain took longer to subside. It was far too dark, way darker than when she had gone to bed. The sleep light had turned off, Ramya realized. She pressed her wristwatch awake to check on the time. It was, as she had expected, night hours still.

  Ramya pressed on the button of her comm next. Nothing but a dull buzz came out of it.

  “Not again,” Ramya muttered under her breath. The ship’s communication channels had been a nightmare since she’d set foot on the Endeavor. After the Mwandan engineers worked on it, Ramya had hoped it’d stay trouble-free. No such luck obviously. She pressed the buttons a few more times only to be greeted by the same buzz.